


Pride and Prejudice

by Secretsolstice



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, F/M, Gen, Multi, jonsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretsolstice/pseuds/Secretsolstice
Summary: Sansa Stark's mother is keen on her two older children marrying. They go into King's Landing as guests of King Rhaegar's good faith in his estranged family to his son, Jon/Aegon Targaryen. The thing is, it seems as though Prince Jon Targaryen looks down on people who do not have wealth and mainly, are from the North. But she doesn't care about Jon when she meets the charming and handsome Joffrey. With his light air about him and how he is not a brooding jerk like Jon, Sansa may think marriage isn't so bad. Except Jon and Joffrey know and hate each other. Secrets unravel and Sansa has to check within herself before she may make the biggest mistake of her life.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> First ao3 story! I thought why not make a Pride and Prejudice but JONSA edition?
> 
> What better way to portray Jon as the brooding Mr. Darcy?
> 
> This will follow the story line of Pride and Prejudice, but it was hard to see who could be who, but you guys will figure it out eventually, and some characters might diverge but this IS a Pride and Prejudice rendition.  
> (If you haven’t read the actual book then worry not because it’s a treat!)
> 
> Please tell me how you guys like it! :)
> 
> Where Rhaegar is the King having two children: Rhaeneys and this Aegon will literally just be boring old Jon. His name will stay Jon but sometimes his dad will call him Aegon. The whole Stark clan is alive.
> 
> *None of these chapters are edited

 

* * *

 

“It would be good,” Catelyn Stark remarked, “if one of my children do get married.” She looked at her two eldest children, Robb and Sansa with such scrutiny it made Sansa squirm in her seat. "Robb is perhaps already too old, but someone in King's Landing mayhaps a high lady might take an interest to him. Your days of being lazy and kissing as many Northern girls are over."

Robb cleared his throat, looking at anywhere but his mother.

“You brought me here so I could get married?” Sansa exclaimed, feeling betrayed. When Rhaegar's men came to Winterfell, baring gifts and a formal invitation from Rhaegar into King's Landing, extending his good faith towards the North and all that Sansa's father did, Sansa was the first to jump at the chance to get out of Winterfell and explore more parts of Westeros.

Except that is exactly what her mother wanted, it would seem.

"Don't be so dramatic," her mother admonished her. "Besides, we are almost there."

Sansa wondered if she could just jump out of the carriage. "Don't do it," Robb whispered to her, as if reading her thoughts. "I already was contemplating, but realized I wouldn't know how to get back home. Plus, you're a girl."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sansa asked harshly.

Robb shrugged, "It's a foreign place to us. We need to stick close, little sister."

"And I am not a girl, I am a Lady," Sansa said smugly. This is what she was taught her whole life.

Robb rolled his eyes. "Where is Arya when I need her?"

"Probably trying to shank Theon," Sansa answered, smiling a little and wondering why there was a pang in her heart. She kind of missed Arya's antics. And Bran's adventures he sometimes took her on. Rickon's laughter. Oh, she missed Rickon's laugh and her father's gentle way of handling all his children.

At least she knew Gilly would be there as a friend.

"The gift that the young Prince gave her was interesting," Robb murmured. It was interesting as it was interesting that their father gave Jon Targaryen a direwolf pup long ago too as a gift of sorts. "They have said that he has the potential to be the greatest swordsman in Westeros."

"Thankfully none of your are interested in knights and swords," their mother said.

Robb and Sansa exchanged glances and stayed silent as their mother hummed some prayer.

 

* * *

 

Their arrival to King's Landing was not as grand as Sansa thought it would be.The only person that met them was her mother's childhood friend, Petyr Baelish. "Cat," the short man was peppered color hair took their mother's hand and kissed it, lingering, much to Sansa's dismay. Fortunately, her mother didn't seem to care enough about him because she ordered him to take them to where they would be staying.

"Rhaegar thought that you guys should be close but have some space too. You are, of course, invited to the small ball hosted by the King himself even though he will not be there due to some personal reasons."

"Lovely," their mother said, telling Robb to help carry their items. Sansa packed the most. She didn't know what the weather would be like, but she knew she would find a fabric store here and make her own clothing, so she didn't mind when her mother told her to pack less.

Robn made an exaggerated grunt when he pulled out Sansa's case. "Are you sure you're not going to impress anybody?"

"I'm sure I'll poke your eyes out with my sewing needle," Sansa retorted. The thought of marriage was scary only because what if she married the wrong guy?

Petry's smile creeped Sansa out. Where was her father? Surely, her father would choke this old man. "Of course, right this way," he gestured for them to go on ahead and his eyes met Sansa's for a second. His smile grew and Sansa's stomach twisted in all the wrong ways."My, how you look like your mother."

Sansa swallowed and could only nod. Robb stepped in beside her, blocking her from Petry's view and glowered at him.

Not missing a single beat, Petry led them to their living quarters. "The Tyrells already made it here too," she overheard Petry talking to their mother. 

They walked up some stairs, and Sansa was getting tired by all of it. The journey. The prospect of finding a husband. Her mother's insistence. Once her mother had a mission, it was impossible to try to avoid it.

The living quarters were nice, Sansa thought. They each had their own rooms, and they had an open view of the water too. 

"I'm going to take a nap," Robb said when they got there.

"But the ball-"

"Nap," Robb picked out a room and shut the door. Her mother turned around to her.

"You know," Sansa feigned a yawn quickly. "I'm pretty sleepy too-"

"Oh no you do not. You have a perfectly made dress- _that you made yourself_ \- to wear to this ball! And we will keep up appearances!"

Sansa groaned, "But Mother-"

"No buts, young lady," her mother cut her off again. "Go get dressed. We have a party to attend to. I hear Gilly will be there." This caused Sansa's spirits to rise. She hadn't seen her best friend in ages.  "Not so sleepy now are you?" her mother raised an eyebrow.

* * *

 

Once Sansa dressed herself in her own dress- blue because of House Stark- she felt like she might have fun at the ball. Especially since Gilly would be there.

Petyr was the one who guided them to where the ball would be held, and Sansa tried to ignore the unsubtle stares she got. It was like a sport at this point. Suddenly, she didn't feel so well in her own dress and felt like she needed to wrap a blanket around her.

The first person that Sansa saw coming up the stairs was -"Gilly!" Sansa exclaimed, running to her old friend who embraced her tightly. It had been too long since they have last seen each other.

"Oh my, Sansa!" Gilly looked over Sansa as if she grew a few inches. "You are such a beauty!"

When Gilly complimented her, Sansa didn't feel an ounce of disgust. Instead, she was flustered. "Thank you Gilly you are beautiful yourself. How have you been?"

"So much had happened I don't know where to start, but I am so glad to see you," Gilly responded taking Sansa's hand and bringing Sansa inside the hall where it was adorned with lanterns and music filled the air with a bunch of guests laughing, filling their bellies with ale and boisterous laughter. "Did you make this dress?"

"Yes," Sansa looked over it. "I'm still practicing though."

"It's so pretty, Sansa," Gilly smiled at her. She looked over the food. "I'll get some food for us, just wait here!" Gilly was off in a rush, leaving Sansa to be alone with her mother.

"Why aren't you dancing?" her mother asked her.

"I don't feel much like it," Sansa said. She was actually trying to avoid the lecherous gaze of Petry Baelish. Probably sneaking around somewhere near them.

"How would you find a husband if you don't dance with at least someone?" her mother asked. Sansa needed something to eat to get her mind off this conversation. Preferably lemon cakes. Her mother looked at her in exasperation as if it was Sansa who was the one being ridiculous. "

Gilly came back, "Sorry Sansa I was looking all over, but they only import lemon cakes here on occasion." 

Sansa sighed. Could this place get worse? Surely not. "Thank you for trying," Sansa said, taking whatever Gilly had in her hand- it looked like some fruit.

"What about you, Gilly, have you had any luck with men?" Catelyn Stark asked Sansa's friend.

Sansa opened her mouth to let her mother know not to interfere with everyone's love life, but Gilly's entire face lightened up. "Indeed there is. Samuel Tarly is the sweetest!" Gilly gushed. “He is best friend with the royal prince-”

The entire ballroom stopped and fell silent at some people walking through the door. All Sansa heard was "royal prince" but she didn't care. "I think that's him," Gilly whispered, trying to get a better view, but it was impossible with all the people flocking towards them.

Sansa’s earlier conversation with her mother still stung her and she didn’t know how to handle it in a more mature manner. She was a Lady. It was her duty to get married, right?

She needed something to drink.

Once the music started again, Sansa weaved through the crowd, taking longer than necessary to reach the table where they were serving some wine. 

Sansa turned around and accidentally bumped into someone, causing the person’s goblet to slush and the blood red wine to spill on her. The woman glowered at her as if it was her fault. Her new dress was ruined and stained!

“Watch where you’re going!” the woman sneered, and went about her way. Sansa blinked, taken aback.

She placed her own glass down, trying to see if there was anything she could clean herself with when someone else bumped into her and bumped into her hard, almost knocking her over.

Sansa had it.

 Was everyone in King's Landing like this? First she couldn't eat lemon cakes then her dress- the one she happily made herself- was ruined and now she almost gets trampled on?

“Excuse you,” she nearly growled out, and her eyes met with an unfathomable deep dark gray orbs. For some reason he was wearing armor which was the sole cause of her getting hurt.

“Here,” the young man produced a handkerchief almost out of thin air because he was wearing armor- to a ball- and a deep shade of red cape hung over his broad shoulders.

Sansa could only stare at his extended hand with the handkerchief. What was it even for? “Your face is wet,” now he sounded slightly irritated which made Sansa bristle, but her hand flew to her face, and was wet and sticky. She didn’t even notice.

Horror seeped through her, slowly then all at once. All she could do was grab the handkerchief and run towards the doors, outside of this place and this mess.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! Thank you guys so much for all the support! Love my Jonsa family <3 please let me know what you guys think!

"Sansa!" Gilly called out to her, and Sansa turned around to find her friend finally stopped dancing with Samuel Tarly for a second. The first thing she noticed was her dress. "Oh my, what happened?"

Sansa frowned, "I have to go, Gilly. I can't be looking like this all night long." She set herself in a hidden area that blocked her view from the party that was going on, sitting down finally. Gilly still stood there, her concerned face making Sansa feel guilty.

"You just got here," Gilly argued, but shook her head, sitting down next to her.

"Please go on without me, continue dancing with the nice Tarly I'll just be here," she reassured, not wanting to ruin Gilly's night. 

"Nonsense! I think I might be able to fix it up some so you can join in on the fun!" Gilly clapped her hands, getting up so fast that the only thing Sansa could do was sigh. She waited a few moments before she heard voices- and she knew whose they belonged to. The other voice- a deep smooth one- it was the same one who gave her the handkerchief. 

"Oh Jon, don't look too miserable here," Sam was saying. "We have new people come here. What do you think about them?"

"Hmph," she heard Jon,  _Prince Jon Targaryen,_   "One of them had a huge stain on her dress as if that's fashion."

Sansa's eyes widened. Even though when he handed her the handkerchief, it didn't seem like he noticed her red stained dress, but he did!

And insulted her. 

Gilly was wrong. She _did_ need to leave. Standing up without another thought, she exited the loud music and people, entering the quiet night. With her red stained dress and all.

It wasn't too late, so some shops were still open, selling fruit or trinkets. One of the shops caught her attention, a fabric store. Of course it was closed, but the dress on the display outside the window was stunning. The work that was done to it, Sansa would love to get her hands on it.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" a slightly high pitched voice asked behind her. Sansa whirled around to see a young man, the same height as she was, smiling at her and nodding at the display. 

Seemed as though someone had good taste.

His striking features made her do a double take. With his cropped short blonde hair and deep green/blue eyes, he looked very handsome.

Was she sure he wasn't a prince?

"I'm sorry," the man was speaking to _her_. "Didn't mean to intrude, but one must admire beauty when he sees it. Especially the dress that you are wearing."

Sansa cleared her throat, looking away. Her worst trait was that she blushed. She could never hide it. "Thank you."

“I’m Joffrey." He bowed a little very formal, "Who may you be?"

“Sansa,” she replied.

"Are you nearby?" he asked, looking around, "I don't see an escort with you..."

Sansa cursed herself because Robb did say people here could do anything. It didn't seem like this young man would. He was smiling at her and he noticed her dress.

Take that, Prince Jerk Jon.

"I was at the ball and I lost my way," she answered after a moment, hoping she could trust him.

The young man nodded, "The ball. I know the way." He extended his arm out for her to take, and Sansa has never done such a thing, it was foreign to her, but it seemed as though he was used to be so chivalrous. "And why did the pretty lady leave this ball?"

"The people," she answered truthfully.

Joffrey laughed, and it was a bit squealish, but she made him laugh, "Do I agree with you." He stopped on the doorsteps of where the hall was.

"Aren't you going to come in?" Sansa asked. It would be rude to just let him have escorted her and not invite him in.

He chuckled, "I'm not usually invited to these things. But it was nice to meet you, My Lady." He took her hand in the most gentle way, and kissed it. It wasn't like a Petyr kiss. It made her heart do weird things.

"That's too bad, I would have liked your company," Sansa commented boldly. 

"I'll see you around," Joffrey's eyes lightened. Nodding once at her, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving Sansa a bit dazed.

"Sansa! Stark!"

Until she heard her mother's voice.

Taking a deep breath in, she was ready to face the repercussions of leaving alone and worrying her mother. She smiled and cheerfully exclaimed, "Hello mother." Knowing full well what wrath was coming her way.

"How dare you go out without an escort! We were so worried about you! I told Petyr to go to the house and alerted everyone you went missing. Even the poor Prince took it upon himself to see where you were." Her mother took a deep. "Where were you anyways, Sansa Stark this time of night? This is utterly improper!"

"Mother, I was just a fabric store," Sansa almost whined. "It was nothing. Some gentleman took me back here, so I _was_ escorted."

"Do not get smart with me," her mother glared at her. "Or else you will not be going out of your room at all."

Sansa groaned, as her mother stopped and stood Prince Jon. Wearing armor. Now that Sansa could get a good look at it with the lighting, she could see what a mistake this suit of armor looked on the Prince. A hideous crimson shade, with the Targaryen symbol not quite in the middle, but below his chest and out of place. His red cape looked too big- with his shoulders looking too wide because of the armor's size, and he looked too red too much.

Except Prince Jon seemed to be wearing it with the utmost pride.

His voice was low as his eyes met hers,"You do need to be careful." She leveled his gaze, and took note of his physical appearance since his armor really offended her tastes. He was at least a head and a half taller than her. Wearing armor to a ball, but it was evident that he was muscular. His eyes were the unnerving to Sansa- a steely gray that could almost be black given the lighting. "You never know what kind of people are in the streets at night."

"I'd rather face them," Sansa said _than speak to you_. Sansa thought she was imagining the flicker of confusion that crossed his face. Yes, she thought, I know how rude you are. And she wasn't going to have it. Even if he was the prince of the seven kingdoms and King sometime in the future.

Who cared. Not Sansa, that was for certain.

She turned around, her mother calling out to her, but she thought of the blonde haired young man, and thought that maybe it was worth getting yelled at.

* * *

 

The next day, after her mother gave her the silent treatment and Robb lecturing to her about being alone, they were summoned to see Rhaegar as he wasn't there at the ball yesterday.

As the three Starks made their way in front of the very intimidating Iron Throne, Sansa dimly noted that Prince Jon Targaryen was standing next to his father's throne, wearing that ridiculous armor. She thought of ways to make that armor look better because who made it was either playing a sick joke on the prince or the prince actually had no taste and liked the armor.

Sansa liked to think the prince had very poor taste.

Rhaegar greeted them as Sansa, Robb and her mother were about to kneel, he stopped them.

"It was I who requested your family to be here, and there is no need. We are family, in a way," he smiled at them, and Sansa admired his long almost white hair and his own clothing was nice, and proper. So unlike Prince Jon's.

Sansa was stretching to see where the younger sister was, but she was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if Rhaenys Targaryen was as unlikable as her brother.

Her mother inquired about Rhaeneys, and Rhaegar's face remained neutral, but from the way his smile stopped reaching his eyes, Sansa knew it was something he would rather not talk about. "Unfortunately, she is ill and is in bed rest. She did wish to be here and perhaps make a friend." King Rhaegar glanced at Sansa warmly. "How are you liking King's Landing, Lady Stark?"

"It is well, thank you," her mother responded kindly. Because it was not nice. Sansa knew her mother missed her father. She saw the paper and ink that her mother rushed to her room to write a letter as soon as she could. Sansa missed her father too, she realized. He was a constant comfort to her. Always would protect her.

Robb was here because of that too, she thought, but her father was different.

King Rhaegar had to attend something, leaving in haste. Robb, being Robb went up to the prince, striking a conversation.

Robb laughed at something that Prince Jon said, and Sansa highly doubted the Prince was someone who remotley had any humor.

He heard the prince tell Robb, "I love jousting, and Sam is scared of it to death, but if you would like you can come to the practices I have. There is a tournament soon."

"I'd love that!" Robb exclaimed happily. 

Men and their jousting.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support and commenting/kudosing!! It means a lot  
> (None of these chapters are edited so if you find a mistake just...pretend it ain't there).

At breakfast, Gilly invited Sansa over to come have tea with her and new friend of Gilly's. Sansa could never say no to food.

Gilly said that they could use the courtyard near where the castle was, looking out into the ocean- courtesy of Sam's connections.

Gilly introduced Sansa to Margaery Tyrell, a very pretty woman with strawberry blonde hair and cat like green eyes.

"Sansa, it's so good to see you," Margaery smiled at her as their hands shook. "I've heard you are an honored guest of the King."

Sansa nodded taking a sip of her tea, "He just invited us."

"You must be important," she said, still smiling.

"Not really," Sansa sighed.

"Did you meet the Prince yet?" she whispered, wide eyed. Sansa's nose twisted accidentally, and not missing anything Margaery sat back on her chair. "So you have met him?"

Glancing at Gilly, Sansa shrugged, "He's friends with Robb." Not a full lie. They seemed like they were friends. But then again, Robb never had the best taste in friends.

"Ah, I see. I haven't gotten the chance to meet him though," Margaery said, pouting a little. "My family is here too. My grandmother doing a bit of scouting."

"Scouting?" Sansa asked.

"You know, marriage," Margaery replied innocently. 

"I would love it if I didn't hear that word anymore," Sansa grunted. "That word is a curse."

"Why would you say that?" Margaery asked, feigning shock. "Marriage is what all women must do, haven't you heard?"

"Sansa is a but atypical in that regard," Gilly smiled fondly at her old friend. "I must apologize."

"Oh nonsense. I respect this idea, Sansa Stark. Men are too easy as well," Margaery said. She smiled after a moment, leaning down. "But is the Prince actually handsome as they say?"

Sansa almost choked on her tea when she saw Sam and Prince Jon within earshot. She wondered if Prince Jon heard anything.

"Sam!" Gilly stood up, "would you like to join us for some tea?"

"Thanks Gilly," Sam smiled at her, nodding at Sansa, "hello Sansa how are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," Sansa returned, making no eye contact with the prince.

"This is Margaery Tyrell, I'm sure you've heard of her family?" Gilly introduced politely. 

Margaery Tyrell, stood up with all the grace a Lady could possess- much to Sansa's awe- and placed a delicate hand out to Sam, who shook it gently.

"Nice to meet you Sam....Tarly," Margaery greeted, giving a smile that Sansa couldn't determine if it was a genuine one or not. But then Margaery's gaze honed in on Prince Jon who was behind Sam, staying back like he was too good for them.

She bowed now to him, dipping low, revealing a hint of cleavage that would make Sansa's mother slap her upside the head. Sansa wondered if it was purposeful. Gilly's eyes widened a little.

"Your Royal Highness, Prince Jon."

Prince Jon shot her one look, murmuring a hello. Sansa felt his gaze shift to her, but she was too busy stirring her spoon to look up.

"Well, we need to head off now- we'll see you guys later!" Sam said, hurriedly after Prince Jon.

Margaery turned to them. "So...I do see he is _very_ handsome."

* * *

 

The next day, Sansa went into the marketplace with her mother and Robb in which Sansa took it upon herself to go back to the fabric store. Who knew who she would find there.

“Ah, welcome,” the shopkeeper greeted her. There were other people in the shop who needed assistance, so Sansa took it upon herself to look deeper into the shop. She spotted the exact person she was looking for.

Joffrey was with another man, laughing until his eyes were drawn to Sansa.

Sansa’s entire demeanor changed. He was even more handsome in the daylight.

“Lady Sansa,” Joffrey took a few steps towards her, bowing a little, something she didn’t deserve.

“Hello,” Sansa smiled at him.

“Let me buy you one,” Joffrey said, pointing to the ribbon.

“Oh no, no,” Sansa shook her head, she already had the coins to pay for it. There was no way she was going to make someone else pay for her. Even if he was being sweet.

“Very well then," Joffrey said. "What would you let me pay for in this store?"

"Maybe someday," Sansa hoped to sound mysterious, but in truth she didn't know what she would make a man pay. A man other than her father or brother.

"I'll look forward to that," Joffrey said, watching the transaction as Sansa bought a beautiful blue colored ribbon. They stepped out of the shop and Joffrey told her he needed to be somewhere shortly, "I hope to see you again."

He disappeared into the crowd, and her mother and Robb appeared from the general shop. Her mother looked at them both.

"I must attend some matters with Petyr. Sansa, go with Robb back home."

Robb protested, "But Mother I-"

Her mother shot him a withering look. 

"Where are going Robb?" Sansa asked.

"It'll only be for a bit," Robb promised.

Robb dragged her to where he was going to practice his jousting for a short amount because "she was here now".

"Jousting takes a lot of skill, dear sister," Robb said. "I need to show them here in the South how it's done."

"I'm pretty sure you'll fail greatly in the South as you did North," Sansa said dryly, causing Robb to ruffle her hair as they neared the stables. Sam was with a man and getting battered.

“Come on Sam! Hit it!” some man was saying to poor Sam who was trying to hit a shield. Robb instantly joined them, wanting a bit of action.

Sansa was grateful there wasn't the sore thumb here.

She turned around to find somewhere to sit, but stopped short when a massive white direwolf, the color of snow stood right in front of her. It was truly a magnificent creature. Sansa didn’t think before she started petting him, behind his ear, and the massive direwolf was purring. Instantly, she felt a connection to him. Direwolves were her house sigil, after all.

“Ghost!-” Prince Jon stopped short when he saw her, standing up straighter.

It dawned on her.

This was the direwolf her father gifted to the prince.

“He’s huge!” Sansa exclaimed, to no one in particular and _especially_ not the prince, rubbing the soft fur and tapping Ghost’s snout.

“Everyone is scared of him and he scares everyone,” Prince Jon stated, after a few passing moments. He looked perplexed and there was a hint of curiosity.

“He’s such a good little pup,” Sansa couldn’t help but say as Ghost rubbed alongside Sansa as though he was one very large feline.

“He...likes you.” Prince Jon’s tone indicated he was dumbfounded by this. Sansa wanted to roll her eyes.

“Seems like he does,” Sansa agreed all too smugly, smiling down at Ghost. Maybe she could free the direwolf from the Prince and bring him home. But then everyone would be well aware of the large direwolf that was missing and that she had.

Except Ghost wasn’t going back to Prince Jon, but happily stayed where she was, on her side.

“Come on Ghost, we need to go,” Prince Jon urged the direwolf, stepping forward.

“Must he leave?” Sansa’s voice came out whinier than she expected, and her gaze collided with the prince’s. His eyes turned a stormy grey.

They were interrupted when Sam and Robb came over to them. "Sam knows a good bakery we can go to and get some cakes for you, Sansa," Robb was saying, smiling.

"But they don't have _lemon_ cakes," Sansa grumbled.

Sam chuckled. "Sorry we don't, maybe we can request for one of the bakers to make it special one day, eh or get imported?"

Sansa felt like it was close enough. She spared a glance at Jon who seemed to be in deep thought.

"Robb are you going to be in the jousting tournament?"

"Your brother did say he can joust," Sam raised an eyebrow. "But the best one there is, is Jon." 

The man who was with Sam, brunette haired man, shook his head. "Aye, but that's because he's the Prince we don't want to hurt him."

Prince Jon whipped his head towards his direction. "Do you mean I win unfairly simply because I'm the prince?" 

"Well..."

Prince Jon clenched his jaw, not looking at anyone. "I'll win this tournament fair. Without you guys having to worry about hurting me." He stalked off, with Ghost trailing behind him. Sam called out to his friend, but the three of them watched as he stalked out of the training grounds.

"He gets a little defensive about that," Sam apologized. 

"He should train with us," Robb commented.

"Jon doesn't like to train with anyone except Arthur Dayne," Sam said. Sansa frowned, of course the prince wouldn't. He probably thought he was too good.

Robb turned to her, "Could I just train a bit?"

Sansa sighed. Since Prince Jon wasn't here, she supposed it wasn't going to be all that bad. Probably could take a nap too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for commenting/giving kudos! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

"The Tyrells are very affluent."

This was not the first thing that Sansa Stark wanted to hear in the morning. At least if she could get something to eat first.

Catelyn Stark was staring at her daughter expectantly. 

"Me?" Sansa almost squeaked out. 

"Why not?" her mother asked her. "Their elder son, Loras is also a _knight_."

"Yes, a knight that is going to be in the jousting tournament," Robb commented, inhaling the bread and cheese that was for breakfast. That would all matter to Robb. This jousting tournament. He would talk about it for ages to her until her ears would fall off. 

"That isn't important," her mother sighed. "You guys shall meet with each other. His sister and grandmother should be there too."

Sansa didn't say anything. Margaery Tyrell seemed like a good friend to have, she thought, how would it be if she would be like sisters to her by marrying her brother?

"Do I have a choice?" she asked. That's what she feared the most. Did she have a choice in all that is what is marriage? Would her mother force it? She knew her father would never allow that to happen.

"Of course you do, Sansa," her mother answered.

"If he tries anything," Robb added, smirking, "I'll cut his ba-"

"Language, Robb," their mother warned. She finished up her tea. "What are you guys doing today?"

"Maybe going to a brothel," her brother really had no shame. Her mother threw a napkin at him.

"Hush, child." Her mother contemplated something then spoke. "Anyways, I have some letters for you guys from your father."

Sansa's heart leaped with joy, "Where?!" Robb shared the same enthusiasm, but tried to hide it.

Her mother handed one to Sansa and one to Robb.

"I miss him," Sansa whispered, taking the envelope and excusing herself from the table, going to her room to sit on her bed. She ripped apart the envelope and opened the letter.

**_Dearest Sansa,_ **

**_The days are going by slowly without the singing of my beautiful daughter. I often wonder how you are doing as the days go by. How are you getting along with your mother? And Robb? I hope Robb isn't giving you much trouble and protecting you. I'm writing to him after this to tell him it is his duty. Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't get into any trouble with women. You know how he is. His head sometimes isn't always in the right place. Thankfully, yours is. So keep him in check._**

Sansa would.

**_I hope you are finding your time in King's Landing everything you dreamed of. Arya misses you even though she will never admit it. She sometimes goes to your room and sleeps there. Bran too would join her. Then little Rickon feels as though he missing out, so he comes too. I see all three of them sleeping on your bed. Waiting for you._**

Her heart hurt a little.

**_As for me, I am well. I am missing you, your brother and especially your mother. Your mother can be a bit much sometimes to handle, but you know she just wants what is your best interest. As do I. You know what you want, Sansa. Never let anyone dictate what you want. Enjoy your time there as much as you can. I cannot wait to hear all about it._ **

**_Love you with all that I am,_ **

**_Ned Stark_ **

 Sansa read the letter once more. Then thrice.

* * *

 

 Forcing Robb to get out of the house before their mother decided to come with them, Sansa quickly told him that she needed to head to the fabric store. She didn't want Robb to be there in case Joffrey was there again. The last thing she needed was for Robb to ask too many questions.

Robb said he would stay by the fountain, but when she had to go back to see him because she forgot her coin purse with him, he wasn't there. Where did Robb go, she wondered? Surely he wouldn’t leave her alone in this place, would he?

Robb jokingly said he was going to where Petyr said he was.

Sansa’s heart pounded as she traveled further down the place, and found herself in an alleyway. How could she be so stupid? But she was completely and utterly lost.

The man's face was burnt, fully disfigured and she opened her mouth, but was paralyzed in fear. This was the moment her parents have been talking to her all her life. Why you should never go out alone. Someone like this could come and get you. 

She couldn't move. The man was towering over her and stepped forward. “Little bird you shouldn’t be around these parts,” he said ominously.

This snapped her out of her paralyzing fear.

She ran.

As fast as she could with her dress much deeper into the alleyways, and she bumped rock solid into something.

No, not something.

Someone.

With armor.

Ugh, _that_ armor. That color.

She fell straight on her bum and grimaced, but then when she felt getting licked at, she smiled. 

“Hey there,” she cooed at Ghost, petting him as he almost purred happily. Almost forgetting what transpired just moments before. But she was shaking.

The prince offered his hand to her, but she refused because her hands were shaking and he would notice. She just glowered at him, but he was undeterred.

“Why were you running as if you were on fire?” he instead asked, not even trying to say he was sorry that he bumped into her. Again.

“I-I was not,” she huffed, clearing her throat, trying to calm herself down. Petting Ghost was helping.

What if the scary man followed her?

She glanced back nervously. This caused the prince to look back too, eyebrows furrowed.

“Who was it?” the tone in his voice caused her to inwardly shiver, he stepped forward threatening, causing the distance between them to shorten.

“No one,” she said once she calmed down. He looked down on her. He was only a few inches taller than her, but with his armor he looked to be looming over her with those grey eyes casting judgement upon her. Or it just looked like he was trying to discern if she was lying. Which she most definitely was. Yes, her mother would be horrified to find out that she was lying straight to the Prince himself, but she had to. What would the prince even do?

She needed to stop looking at his eyes because she felt like she was drowning.

And she didn't know if that was a bad thing either.

Uncomfortable with the distance and how it made her blood feel hot, she blurted out,  “Do you know where Petyr's brothel is?” This caused the prince's eyebrows to fly up. Hastily she added, “My brother might be in there, so I need to see if he is."

"Absolutely not," Prince Jon answered shortly. 

"Fine, I'll go myself," Sansa stepped aside, but the prince moved quicker than her, blocking her way.

"I'll go in to see," the prince offered. He really thought it was a good one, she thought.

“It’s alright if you go inside but I don’t?” Sansa asked, harshly and highly annoyed.

“Yes,” Prince Jon’s one word response irked her. “Because I wouldn’t want any man look at such a beautiful lady in the way that they do in _there_ or try anything because I will cut them down.”

Sansa was at a loss for words for a moment. “Uh-eh, oh, er.”

But Prince Jon was already walking, with Ghost beside him, so she promptly followed.

As they were walking, Prince Jon spared her a glance, “Do you have the handkerchief I gave you the night at the ball?”

Sansa's face colored. He remembered that night?

“I don’t have your handkerchief,” Sansa lied. It was on her nightstand. The high quality sick fabric of the simple handkerchief, she thought sourly, did suite that of a Prince. And the way the letters J and T were embroidered by it and it was some special craftsmanship that Sansa thoroughly appreciated. The stitching on it was marvelous. She was sure Jon wouldn’t miss it. Why would he anyways?

Jon narrowed his eyes at her as though he didn’t believe her. Sansa gave him her best innocent expression. One that Rickon would always use on Mother. 

The area that they were in seemed even more dangerous than where she was at before. There was no sunlight in these parts. Robb wouldn't be here, would he? And why did the prince have no guards around to protect him? Surely he must have some. But then she supposed Ghost would be the best guard there is.

Ghost. Who she was closely following in case anything happened. She trusted the direwolf more than the prince to protect her. Who knew if the rumors were true if the prince was one of the best swordsman out there. That didn't mean he was a _gentleman_.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Sansa asked.

"Quite," Prince Jon replied.

"How would you know about places like these?" she had to ask.

The Prince squinted his eyes as if he didn't like what she was asking, but answered anyways, "I know my land." A few drunken men staggered out, laughing and walking funnily.

Prince Jon turned to Ghost, bending down a little and smoothed some of his white fur. “Watch over her for me, will you?”

And he went inside.

Sansa took a deep breath, looking directly at the ground, holding onto Ghost like it was her lifeline. Ghost only growled at one group of men that scurried off in a panic, never even having to show his teeth.

"Good boy," Sansa murmured.

Only a few moments went by before the prince came out, meeting her eyes and shaking his head slightly.

"No?" she asked, frowning. 

 “I wouldn’t think that he would be there,” he ventured. "Have you tried the training grounds?"

"Training-" Sansa paused and wanted to slap herself. Of course. He might be there. "Unlike you, I don't know anywhere here."

Prince Jon opened his mouth, "I can-"

 Robb was running straight at her, and he almost yelled, "Where were you!" he took her by the shoulders, gently shaking her, looking highly stressed out.

“Don’t yell,” Prince Jon said quietly. “She was worried about you.”

Sansa blinked at how ...actually nice that was from the prince. She wasn't used to the feeling.

Robb snapped out out of it and hugged her then tightly, “Sorry I was too- I didn’t know- I thought- anyways,” her brother leaned back, smiling sheepishly, taking a step back. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the prince.  “I’m glad that she was with you.”

“Did anything happen to you?” Robb asked her. She thought of that man that she saw in the alleyway.

Feeling the eyes of Prince Jon watching her closely as well made her feel like she couldn't say the truth because she told him nothing about the man. The prince's gaze was studying her. Almost burning.

She shook her head looking down and not making eye contact, “No.”

Robb let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you, Jon for being there for her." That left Sansa a bad taste in her mouth, but she did realize she never thanked the prince for trying to look for Robb with her. It was nice, she guessed. 

Before Sansa could say anything, Gilly and Sam were walking together and upon seeing them, waved at them. "Jon, did you know Loras was joining in on the tournament? That's the only reason his family came over here. So he could beat you."

"Jon could take him," Sam said confidently, in defense of his friend.

"Men and their jousting," Sansa muttered.

"I'll have you know, Sansa, that jousting is the most incredible-"

"Amazing-" Sam added.

"It makes you want to live a thousand times over," Robb finished.

"What's wrong with jousting?" this time it was the prince who spoke up. He was looking at her directly, and Sansa didn't give him the acknowledgement.

 _Besides the fact that royals and the wealthy think it's something to boast about but apparently they let the prince win?_  "Nothing...much."

"It takes a great deal of skill," Sam said, feeling the slight tension between them.

"Why don't you watch it and see for yourself?" the prince challenged her, still looking at her. She could feel his piercing gaze. 

Sansa leveled his gaze and then put on a fake bright smile, "I'd rather get pricked with a needle."

With that, she left, towing Gilly away with her.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! It helps motivate me ;)

 

Robb promised to buy some fabric for her if she just went to the training grounds for a short bit. Gilly and Margaery were already there when she arrived with her brother. Margaery was talking with the prince and Sam while there was someone else on the horse, riding around aimlessly.

Gilly was sitting down on a tree stump, and motioned for Sansa to sit next to her.

"Are you watching Sam?" Sansa whispered. She didn't know how her friend was doing with her relationship...or whatever it was with the very sweet Sam Tarly.

Gilly sighed, "I don't know if he likes me or not."

"Of course he does!" Sansa exclaimed. "I have never met anyone look at you the way that Sam does."

Gilly blushed, bashful at the compliment. They both looked onward as Margaery laughed with the men. They overheard a bit of her conversation with Prince Jon.

"So, Jon tell me-"

"Prince Jon," he corrected her.

This didn't deter Margaery at all, "Prince Jon, how do you feel about the jousting tournament?"

Sansa tuned them out when Gilly leaned in and said, "She's so pretty, isn't she?"

"Gilly, you are so beautiful yourself," Sansa chided. "But you're right. She's like more of a ...a...."

"A woman," Gilly supplied for her. "She is a full blown, sultry woman."

"And I'm just trying to be a lady but sometimes I don't think I can manage that," Sansa told her friend, thinking about how her mother was still ever insistent on marriage. And with the Tyrells....

"Sansa, you _are_ such a lady! Highly respected too. Especially in the way you carry yourself. Margaery may be very pretty, but your beauty comes not only outwards but in too."

Sansa smiled at her friend, "Thank you Gilly."

"They seem friendly," Gilly nodded at Prince Jon and Margaery talking. Margaery was holding onto his elbow now. "But if I didn't know any better, I'd say the prince is having a horrible time."

"With the Tyrells?" Sansa asked, incredulous. Why would the prince not want the company of this family?

As if hearing them talking about him, the prince turned his gaze towards their direction and his eyes lingered onto Sansa. Briefly, she wondered why his eyes were so lovely.

Wait.

 _Lovely_?

Horrified she thought that, she turned quickly away, hoping the prince couldn't read minds, but Margaery called out, "Sansa! Come here! I want you to meet my brother."

Her horror intensified because her mother was talking about the Tyrells. And marriage.

She looked at Gilly for help, who didn't understand her predicament and hesitation. "Er..."

"Come on," Gilly urged, taking Sansa by the hands and walking towards where the men were.

The one who was on the horse stopped what he was doing, and got off his saddle, taking off his helmet. His hair was curly, much like the prince's- but shorter and blonde.

He gave Sansa a huge smile. Margaery took her by the arms now, and smiled at her. "Sansa, this is my brother Loras, and Loras this is my good friend Sansa."

Good friend? Sansa would take it.

Loras' face brightened, and he took Sansa's hand, kissing it. "Lady Stark, it is such a pleasure to meet you. My sister mentioned you were pretty, but she did not do me any justice."

Robb cleared his throat as Loras' kiss stayed longer than was the norm.

"That's all fancy to hear, Loras," Robb interjected saving his sister, "but you didn't show us any of what you have."

"Who will then face me," Loras winked at Sansa, dropping her hand.

"I will," the prince stepped forward, and the way he was looking at Loras wasn't friendly at all.

Loras didn't seemed phase. "Alright, Prince Jon, I'll entertain you for a moment. Practice for when the real time comes." Both the men got on their horses, and Sansa was too busy petting Ghost who loved it, and wondering if she could brush his fur when the prince wasn't looking, when she heard a crack, and looked up at the two sparring men.

Loras was on the ground, and the prince rounded his horse, getting off. In one swift motion took his helmet off, stalking towards Loras as the anger was twisted in his face. Sansa would not want to be on the receiving end of that, and Loras' smile quickly faded. 

"Why didn't you use your full strength? You didn't even try!" His voice raised a hair.

"I can't hurt the prince, Jon," Loras answered, holding up his hands in surrender. 

“Then I’m just guaranteed to win?” Prince Jon asked, still glaring at Loras.

“Well when it comes down to it…” Loras trailed off, shrugging. “Yeah.”

The prince turned to Robb and Sam, "So in the tournament will you go easy on me too, Robb?"

"Listen, I don't-"

"Would you go easy on me and let me win?" the prince cut, not letting it go. Sansa could sense his frustration and found herself feeling bad for him.

"Hurting you is the last thing that-"

The prince closed his eyes, holding up his hand so Robb stopped talking. "Then what is the point of you guys participating in the tournament if I am just going to win?"

Everyone didn't move as the prince maneuvered out of the grounds, his usual beautiful direwolf companion trailing behind him, leaving Sansa alone.

Loras whistled lowly, "Whoa, the prince really has a stick up his a-"

"He's right," Sam said sadly. "He just wants to play fair, you know."

"He's the prince," Loras said, "what would you expect to happen?"

 

* * *

The Tyrells were having a party that everyone was invited to.

Sansa, of course, had to go to the fabric store earlier in the week to buy something appropriate for her. With her luck, Joffrey was indeed there. When they saw each other, he greeted her with saying how much he liked her blue ribbon.

"It looks so pretty on you," he complimented her. "It really matches your eyes."

Sansa could feel the blush forming on her face, hating herself for it. "Thank you," she said, touching the blue fabric.

"Although," Joffrey said slowly, "I'm sure a red dress would look so good on you."

"Oh," Sansa blinked, wondering which fabric from the wide array of reds she should pick. When her hand landed on the one that reminded her too much of a certain prince with distasteful armor, she quickly moved onto the next. This one was much to Joffrey's liking.

"I'll be there," Joffrey told her. 

Excited for the prospect that he would be there, and that she would look good in this dress, Sansa worked all week along with Gilly in making the dress. She helped out Gilly with her dress because Gilly didn't have much the funds to pay for anything nice. And Sansa didn't care about paying when she could just make it herself. And make it better.

When the day came for the Tyrell ball, Sansa examined herself in the mirror. Robb stood by the doorway, looking at her.

"Well? What do you think Robb?" she asked her brother. Robb blinked at her, and his face twisted for split second.

"It's really...red?"

"Thank you my very intelligent brother for knowing your colors," Sansa grumbled, wondering if she chose the wrong color.

"It's not a Targaryen red. But like too red. I don't know how to explain it. It's not you," Robb tried to explain.

When their mother saw her, she looked Sansa up and down. "Well I suppose we can't change that now, can we. We need to go. Our carriage awaits."

"Is it that bad?" Sansa asked, worried. If Joffrey would be there, at least he would like it then. Right?

"Your beauty makes up for it," Robb grinned at her, winking as he helped her onto the carriage. Sansa smoothed her skirt, looking at their mother.

"Robb, that Margaery Tyrell is pretty....don't you think?"

"Mother, that girl only has her eyes dead set on Jon," Robb explained.

"Hmph." Their mother's chin turned up. "Looks as though Lady Olenna has her sights high. I wish _you_ guys would aim high."

Robb sighed, looking out the window, and Sansa wondered if her mother would care if Sansa married for love and not status.

The first person to greet them was Lady Olenna herself, Margaery's grandmother. "Lady Stark, I was aware of your eldest daughter being a great beauty, but here she is in the flesh. Sansa, is it?"

"Yes," Sansa nodded, "nice to meet you."

"You hang out with that Gilly girl?" Lady Olenna asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's my best friend," Sansa replied slowly, not understanding why Lady Olenna was so interested in who her friends are.

"Of course she is. Margaery's friend too. Eyeing the Tarly boy."

Sansa didn't know what it even mattered. "Yes, Sam is very sweet towards her."

Lady Olenna gave Sansa a bland smile. "Sweet for him or the rich-"

As if fate has decided something to stop this awful conversation, Sansa was saved by Gilly calling her.

"Excuse me," Sansa pardoned herself, looking at her mother, "I will go to where my dear friend Gilly is."

"Sansa!" Gilly was by the table where all the pastries were, and lo and behold, Sansa thought she was imagining it. Gilly held a plateful of lemon cakes. All for her.

"What is this?!" Sansa exclaimed, almost running into a group of people for her lemon cakes. She gasped out loud, not believing it. Truly, this was perhaps one of the best moments of her life. She didn't think she'd see these delicacies so early in King's Landing. All hopes for them were gone. "Gilly, it has been ages since I've had these!"

"Actually, it's been only fourteen days."

"As I said, ages," Sansa sniffed, taking a huge bite out of the lemon cake- not so ladylike- but she did not care on inkling. The taste of it was heavenly, and in that moment she wondered how anything could top this. No food could compare. 

Gilly laughed at her goodhearted, looking on as Sansa chewed because she took a much bigger piece than she intended, and her eyes widened a bit from behind. "Oh Prince Jon. Thank you for these delicious pastries you bought over," she said in greeting.

Sansa accidentally turned to the prince herself, her mouth still full of the lemon cakes and her plate stacked with them, she managed a slight smile which came off as a grimace.

"I'm glad you guys are enjoying," the prince responded cordially, and Sansa swore she saw a glint of amusement from his face. Was he judging her? 

After Sansa managed to chew it all and swallow the absolute delicacy, she didn't forget her manners. "Lemon cakes are my favorite," she blushed at the amount she took, but held no regrets to it. 

The prince took one from the table, nodding in agreement, "They are good. I think we should have them on a daily basis."

"As do I," Sansa agreed. Wow, this was one thing she thought she would ever agree with the prince on. 

 He opened his mouth to say something else, but then his face darkened as someone came next to Sansa. Loras Tyrell smiled brightly at her and Sansa, shy at this attention didn’t know what to do about it. "Greetings," he said, bowing to the both of them. Margaery came over to where her brother was, greeting them, but her eyes stayed on the prince.

“Care to dance, Lady Sansa?” Loras asked her, snapping her from looking at Margaery and the prince and how good they looked together.

Sansa nodded, trying not to look at the prince as she let Loras lead the way to the dance floor, and stupidly made eye contact with her mother who gave her an approving nod. Sansa groaned inwardly. This was exactly the scenario her mother conjured up in her mind, wasn't it? And Sansa fell right into her mother's trap.

"I apologize in advance if I step on your feet," Sansa said to him.

"That's so cute," Loras smiled down at her, "but I can think of no greater thing that you stepping on my feet all night. As long as I'm dancing with the most beautiful lady in this room."

Sansa blushed. Loras spent all night dancing with her, and Sansa wasn't used to this attention from someone.

"Your company is very pleasant," he said.

"Thank you," Sansa responded. She looked around to see if Joffrey was there, but there was no sign of him. The whole night, he didn't show.

Tired of dancing, Sansa took the last pieces of lemon cake and walked outside into the cool night air, enjoying the best part of her night. It wasn't that Loras Tyrell was horrible or anything, it was just...he loved talking about himself mostly. How much he accomplished. How handsome everyone thinks he is. How he is the best jousting knight there is in all of Westeros. 

Sansa really got annoyed by it, and somehow escaped him as he was flirting with another woman right in front of her.

She really wished Joffrey would show. He would be better to talk with. 

"Enjoying the night?" a voice next to her asked her. Sansa turned around- again- lemon cake in mouth and two pieces in her hand. Unfortunately, Prince Jon did take notice, but his lips curved only the slightest upward. Sansa had to squint to see it, but it was there. 

"Not much," Sansa answered honestly. She held up the lemon cake. "These might make up for it." 

"I see," Prince Jon nodded, casting her a sideways glance. "I don't like these parties much either."

"Why is that?" Sansa asked, hoping her question would trick the prince into not noticing what a complete pig she was being. Mother would have a heart attack if she knew this was how she was talking to the prince.

"I'd rather be with Ghost," the prince replied.

"Where is he?" Sansa asked, sounding too excited. The prince blinked in surprise. "I mean, where is he when you're...here? You should take him to come with you."

The prince stared at her for a moment, and Sansa had to look away because his eyes seemed as though he was looking straight through her. "He's never far from me. Lady Olenna advised that I not bring him because he'd scare the guest, but yes, Ghost is always by my side."

 For some reason, Sansa found herself smiling at the thought of the massive direwolf always being by the prince's side. Since Joffrey was a no-show to this party, and Gilly was dancing with Sam, she thought why not.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

The prince's head whipped back, "Pardon me?"

"Come on Prince Jon, Ghost is waiting for us!" She was going to feed him some lemon cake too. Ghost would love it.

She didn't expect him to follow her, but he did, and sure enough right outside the ballroom, Ghost was waiting for the prince, but instead of going to him, Ghost nuzzled Sansa first.

"I'm convinced you put some sort of spell on him."

Sansa chuckled, rubbing Ghost's ear. "He just has good judgement of character."

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for commenting and giving me kudos! I do it all for you guys, really. Hope this chapter is good!
> 
> ****chapter was one of the first ideas I thought of for this story and heavily inspired by a Merlin episode

 

 The day before the jousting tournament, Robb wanted to have another go in the training grounds for extra practice.

"Sam, where is Jon?" Robb asked.

Sam looked from Robb to Loras. Loras stopped his horse, looking down at Sam.

"Yes, Sam, where is Jon? It's the day before the jousting tournament and the perfect prince isn't here," Loras said. "I wanted to see where our levels were at."

"Jon is deathly ill," Sam explained to them all.

Robb almost shouted, "What?! Where is he? I need to see him and make sure he's okay!"

“You don’t- you’ll catch whatever he has!” Sam said quickly.

“That means he’s going to miss the tournament?” Loras asked, smirking a little. “Of course he would. Perhaps the prince is scared.”

“He’s not scared!” Sam comes to the defense of his friend, but Loras didn’t look like he believed him.

“Well at least we can go all out now,” Loras smiled and he walked over to Sansa. “I would ask you for a lady’s favor,” Loras told her, “but I am sad to say that someone already gave one to me. I’m afraid having too many would have the opposite effect and bring me bad luck. Now that the prince isn’t here, I would say that I’d win.” Loras was confident. Sansa didn’t mind not giving him anything because she wasn’t going to give him her blue ribbon that was in her hair, that was for certain. In fact, she wasn’t even going to give Loras anything in the first place. He assumed that she would which was a mistake on his part, and it just annoyed Sansa.

She wasn’t even rooting for him- she wanted Robb to win.

“Good luck,” she smiled, a very fake smile.

Hope he lost.

* * *

 When Sansa's plan of telling Robb and her mother that she wasn't interested in going even though the entire city was, her mother asked her, "What about watching Loras Tyrell? I thought you fancied him?"

"Mother, not everything has to do because I want to watch men beat each other bloody," Sansa responded.

"Come on and support me then, your favorite brother," Robb said, smiling.

"Rickon is my favorite. And the cutest," Sansa teased.

Robb rolled his eyes, "I'll give you lemon cakes?" 

Bribery.

"You know, Sam and Gilly might be lonely. They'll need my good presence," she shrugged.

Robb and Sansa ignored their mother's, "But what about Loras?!"

As soon as Sansa saw Gilly, she seperated from her mother. "Come on you guys!" Sam urged them, already there. "If we go right near where the King sits, we'll be able to see everything," he said excitedly, walking hurriedly. Sansa raised an eyebrow at Gilly who shrugged at her, smiling nonetheless.

There were so many people in the stands, Rhaegar present as he should be, no queen beside him since both of his wives died. The hand of the King, Arthur Dayne stood there, intimidating, reminding her a bit of the prince. He didn’t have his father’s white blonde hair or the Targaryen purple eyes.

“This is going to be so good,” Gilly whispered to her. Sansa’s mother sat next to Lady Olenna. Margaery also sat next to her grandmother, on the other side of the high stand where the King sat, waving at them.

A woman with long blonde hair but short stature followed by another blonde haired man, a but taller than her walked over to King Rhaegar. “That’s Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen!” Gilly exclaimed to Sansa. “They came from Dragonstone!”

Sansa watched as Daenerys smiled at her brother, saying something Sansa couldn’t catch. Viserys looked a little annoyed, at what Sansa didn’t know, but he didn’t speak to anyone and sat himself down.

“Where is Jon?” they overheard Daenery ask. “I want to see him before he gets into it. You know how nervous and high strung your son gets. He needs something”

“He’s sick,” they heard the King answer. “Rhaenys is aiding him while he is seriously ill.”

“That’s so horrible,” Daenerys responded to her brother, getting up. “Maybe I should go check on him?”

“If you don’t mind missing the tournament, Rhaenys will need all the help she can get,” King Rhaegar said.

“I’ll go, I’m worried,” Daenerys stood up, looking at the crowd for a second, and walking off the high stand, passing Sansa. She was so beautiful, she thought.

The introductions began of the participants. The crowd didn't cheer as much as they did for the knights up in the North like the one from the Vale named Charles, and it was hard to ignore the cheers that Loras Tyrell bought from the stands.

Sam was explaining to her and Gilly about the ones to look out for. "The Mountain is perhaps the one to look out for and his brother, the Hound." Sam nodded in the field. "Here The Mountain is right now. He'll crush his opponent."

Like his namesake, The Mountain was huge- and his horse bigger than the rest as well. 

They watched as The Mountain had one of his opponents flying off his horse, and Sansa was surprised no one was saying it was unfair.

"That's horrible," Sansa winced when the person that got knocked out by The Mountain couldn't move, so some other people had to drag him away. Viserys laughed loudly, the only one clapping. "I placed all my money on him," Viserys was telling his brother.

Robb and Loras eased through their first round, Sansa getting into the whole sport as well, gasping and holding her breath when it was Robb's turn.

"The Mountain and Robb Stark!" the announcer called out.

Sansa opened her mouth- maybe to tell Robb to get out, but it was too late as her crazy brother was on his horse, ready. Sansa feared for Robb facing this monster of a human.

He'll be okay, she thought.

Both riders charged at one another, and The Mountain's spear slamming into Robb, causing him to fall hard on the ground. Sansa stood up, now afraid for her brother, but Robb was a Stark, and he rose up, saying something she couldn't hear to The Mountain, but stalked off instead.

"What was that?" Gilly asked them.

"I have no clue," Sansa replied.

"Robb took a harsh hit," Sam answered, "I don't think you're necessarily allowed to do that..."

"Then why allow it?" Sansa asked, incredulous. Her brother could have gotten seriously injured or worse!

"The Mountain is a favorite," Sam shrugged, but his eyes were worried. "I don't know who could beat him other than his brother."

Loras went through the next round while Robb did not, and Sansa wanted to console her brother.

Sansa now had one reason to watch this: to see The Mountain go down.

He was going against the poor knight named Charles.

The Mountain rammed the spearhead into Charles' chest, taking an ugly hit that Sansa thought might be against the rules, but somehow Charles didn't go down.

“That wasn’t right!” Sam whispered, looking at them.

Viserys whistled above them, “The Mountain is a beast and it is glorious I love it.”

Somehow, someway this didn’t deter Charles in the next round they both had another go at each other. The horse hooves echoed the same pace as Sansa's heart. Who knew jousting could be fun _and_ terrifying?

With an imperceptible skill she could not see, when the spears clashed, somehow Charles managed to make The Mountain stumble off his horse, a large thud sounding when he hit the ground.

Stunned silence.

Then, the whole crowd cheered wildly. Sansa even found herself cheering.

“He beat The Mountain!” Gilly shrieked in awe.

"And badly injured," Sam added.

* * *

 

During the break time, Sansa was trying to find Robb to check up on how he was doing when a huge person blocked her way.

The man with the burnt face that she saw the other day.

Her eyes widened, and he looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. "You again," his voice was gruff, and Sansa took a step backward. He took one step threatening forward until a growl made the man jump back.

Sure enough, a large white furred direwolf protectively stood in front of her, baring his very, very sharp teeth at him. The man cursed out something, looking around and then he walked off a different direction.

"Ghost! Good boy!" Sansa cooed at him. Ghost licked her hand, and trotted towards a tent that she wondered why he was even going there before she saw the knight named Charles limping inside the tent. Following Ghost because why was the prince not here? Was this knight trying to take away the direwolf and steal it? What if he hurt Ghost? Was Ghost lost? "Come here boy!"

She entered the tent, stopping short to find Charles' back.

Charles.

Who indeed was not Charles at all.

But Prince Jon.

Recognizing those curls and tied up hair, Sansa was shocked and paralyzed momentarily by the front entrance of the tent.

Prince Jon's helmet was off, not noticing until Ghost yipped happily, and the prince turned, his eyes snapped towards where she was. A flicker of surprise flitted across his face for a second that Sansa didn't miss.

She didn't know if she was the one who was caught or the prince.

She shook her head, exclaiming, "I thought you were sick! What are you doing here- _Charles_?" She emphasized the fake name pointedly.

"Deathly sick, I see. Sam does have a wild imagination," the prince muttered, but Sansa could only stare at him in wonderment thinking about the matches that Prince Jon went through. He actually was skilled. The rumors of him being one of the best were true. He bested The Mountain even though it wasn't a fair fight.

Ghost was by her side, almost like he too disapproved of what the prince was doing. She rubbed where he liked best- just behind his ear. She shivered thinking about the scary man back there again and if Ghost wasn't there...

"Ghost is a good guard for me," she said. "I might steal him from you."

"What happened?" Even in the midst of being in a tournament, he sounded concerned for her. His eyebrows scrunching up, his lips in a frown.

"There was just some scary man-"

"Scary- did he do anything to you?" the prince almost demanded, standing straighter.

"No, no," Sansa brushed off. "Ghost was there so he scared the man away."

The prince's face hardened, trying to get up and put his helmet to the side, "Where is he?" but he grunted in pain, holding his right side where The Mountain hit him hard.

"Don't mind me, you're hurt," Sansa noted, remembering the hit, stepping towards him.

"It's nothing," Prince Jon said through clenched teeth, but Sansa wasn't having any of that. " _Where is he_?"

He would have to get taken care of before he went off there and ruined it for himself.

"Never mind that, Ghost handled it," Sansa assured, but he was still standing, and from what Sansa could tell he wasn't trying to show it, but it was obvious he was in pain and trying to argue with her. 

" _I'll_ handle him accordingly," the prince's voice was low. Sansa inwardly shuddered, but there was more pressing matters at hand. Especially ones he seemed to be ignoring. Without thinking about it, and thining what her mother would think, she poked at his chest.

Not Lady like at all, she knew, except these days it was like King's Landing did something to her. Must be the air. Or the company around her.

The prince's eyes widened a fraction in surprise. 

"Sit," she ordered. Her mother would definitely faint that she said this to the prince.

He obliged.

"Okay..." she mused, nodding as she looked around the tent for anything to hold his wound. Their was a box of bandages and a bottle of a liquid of some kind to help with infections. Sansa saw her mother do this plenty of times for her father and Robb. She could do this. "You need to take off your clothes." The prince's eyebrows shot up, and Sansa rolled her eyes. "So we can put some bandages on."

"I know," the prince said, a hint of amusement coloring his tone as he put his helmet down, taking off his armor. Sure enough, the white shirt he had on had the bleeding look even worse than Sansa imagined. The prince struggled to take off his shirt, so Sansa tried helping him as gently as she could, trying to not stare at his naked torso too much because the armor he always wore hid all too well his very toned and defined stomach and his muscles on his arms.

"It'll sting a little," she mentioned.

She gently dabbed the wet cloth onto his injury, careful not to press too hard and careful not to inhale his woodsy scent and even though he was sweating it smelled good to her. Which she needed to get a grip on herself.The prince stiffened when the cloth made contact, but made no noise as she cleaned up the bleeding, blowing lightly on the wound as her mother would.

The prince exhaled slowly, his muscles taut.

Taking the bandage, she wrapped around his torso, ignoring how impressive his physique was. Or how she never got this close to another man before. Once she was finished, she quickly stepped back, finding her voice. "There." She looked away at anything other than the prince.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse, standing up to pull his shirt back over. She helped him get his armor on, and it was heavier than she anticipated. He walked around in this heavy armor all day!

“Really though everyone thinks your sick how did you make them believe that? Even your father," Sansa said.

“My sister and Sam covered for me."

“How ever did you manage?”

“Rhaenys can be very convincing.”

She was quiet for a moment, and had to ask, "Why are you going in a disguise?"

“Everyone goes easy on me because I’m the prince, so I decided to make sure everyone gave me a chance. Equal to everyone else so I can prove to everyone I am good. Not just by what people say. I …” he looked up at her. “You don’t think it’s a stupid idea?”

He was genuinely asking for her opinion. And she felt like it meant something.

Sansa shook her head answering honestly, “No, I don’t. I think it’s...noble.”

This time Prince Jon’s head whipped towards her, he repeated her, “Noble?”

“Honorable,” Sansa was rambling now. “It’s honorable. And noble. That you would do this.” She didn’t think many would. So she told him so. “Not many would.”

His usual expressionless face glinted at something, but he quickly looked down. “I don’t want them to go easy on me. I want them to beat me fair. That I can do this because of me and not...because of my title. Because people let me.”

Bells rang, signaling that the next round was about to start.

Prince Jon sighed, standing up with one hand on his helmet. His stormy gaze collided with hers. "Before I go, I need to ask you of something."

"W-what?" Sansa asked, hating herself that she'd probably give him whatever he wanted.

Prince Jon glanced over, “A ribbon.”

“A-”

“Your ribbon,” Jon cleared his throat, looking away, but his face turned a faint pink. “For luck.” The lady’s favor.

“ _Oh_.”

Prince Jon continued, “It is only fair, I think since you did take my handkerchief.” Sansa’s eyes widened, and by the look of Prince Jon’s facial expression- was that amusement? _Was he teasing her?_ He didn't seem like he was actually holding it against her. In fact, he looked to be enjoying it. And Sansa found herself smiling.

“Fine,” she relented easily, pulling out her blue ribbon that held up her hair, making her thick red hair cascade down her shoulders. 

The prince swallowed.

Sansa held out the ribbon, willing to give him this favor for whatever crazy reason that she did not know of but that he deserved it. And it thrilled her in a way that he would have it. That he asked for it. That he'd have it while he was jousting. That he might keep it. Because she wouldn't ask for it back. 

"Then you must win, Prince.”

“Jon,” Jon corrected softly, their hands barely brushed together and a even if it was the most feather like touch, it warmed her entire soul. “Just Jon, to you- only you.”

“Okay Just Jon,” Sansa’s lips curved upward, unable to help herself, ignoring the flutter in her stomach. “Win.”

“You’ll be watching?” he asked hopeful. Sansa immediately compared his voice to Joffrey’s. Jon’s was quiet, never having to raise his voice at anything while Joffrey’s high pitched tone always seemed angry. Jon...Jon was gentle. But why was she thinking that? She needed to stop. 

Sansa nodded, “With Sam and Gilly.”

There was a set of determined eyes as he nodded, “I’ll win.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG TIME NO SEE. Jonsa not being canon in the show really made me depressed (like Jonsa wise) and I just stopped writing this.
> 
> HOWEVER, I've been reading a lot of Jane Austen of late, and got super inspired again + your reviews which btw A HUGE THANK YOU GUYS. Every single review counts. Like seriously. It makes me feel good about this story therefore I write more of it. Make sense, kinda?
> 
> Please please leave a kudos and review! You guys are literally my only motivators :)

* * *

Jon ordered Ghost to be by her side, so people would not suspect anything.

Not that she would have it any other way. The direwolf was a welcome companion. She could understand why Jon always had Ghost by his side. Maybe Jon was lonely...that thought made Sansa sad, that she didn't see her brother walking towards her.

"Sansa?" Robb saw her leave the tent, with Jon- er, with his disguise as Charles- right behind her.

And Ghost trotting in front of them.

Robb's eyes widened, and he looked from Ghost, to Sansa, to Jon. Who Robb thought is Charles.

Sansa opened her mouth, "Robb you're okay!"

"I am," Robb nodded at his sister, but his gaze followed Ghost, to Jon and narrowed his eyes. "Jon?"

Jon cleared his throat, stepping beside Sansa. “Hello, Robb.”

“You…” Robb trailed off. “You’re not sick?”

“I’m here to be treated like an equal.” Jon, the prince, stood a bit straighter. Sansa realized how much pressure Jon put on himself- he had everything to prove.

Robb laughed, patting Jon in the back, and Sansa noticed Jon wincing. Jon's gaze through his helmet swung to her, and she could feel him lingering at her before Robb broke it.

"You better get to it, Prince," Robb whispered. Jon said his goodbyes to her brother, and Sansa just a solid nod. A promise not forgotten. And something more Sansa did not know what of.

Jon adjusted his helmet, “I'll see you soon.” He made his way towards the jousting area, Robb and Sansa looking at his back. High and proud like a true prince, Sansa couldn’t help but think. Ghost whined a bit, but nuzzled Sansa's hand in comfort. As if he knew that Jon was already hurt, and now he had to get even more hurt.

Robb commented, “Well what do you know. This prince has much more to show me than I thought he would.”

Sansa found herself agreeing.

* * *

 

Ghost followed Sansa to the stands, scaring off everyone and making everyone wonder why the prince’s constant companion was with Sansa. Once she met Sam’s gaze, he nodded sheepishly.

“You know,” she whispered to him.

“Yes,” Sam said to her as Robb was in the distance, with the other ones who lost the tournament. “He’s badly hurt, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Sansa answered, sighing.

“Loras has been good in this whole tournament.”

“Do you think Jon has a good chance?” Sansa asked. Sam raised his eyebrow at the very informal way of addressing the prince of Westeros, but he smiled at her.

“Depends on how much he wants to impress.”

The round started, with Loras Tyrell showing off as he rode into the jousting area. Jon simply was in position, focused and Sansa could see the set of determination in the way his shoulders straightened. 

When the round started, and Sansa found herself holding her breath. The pounding of the horses hooves were the only thing Sansa heard until incredibly, a clash lances so impactful, it was at the end that Loras fell off his horse. 

Everyone in the crowd stood, cheering and Sansa stood up with them, clapping loudly for Jon’s victory. He did it. He bested the best of them.

He _was_ the best.

For a single moment, Jon’s head turned to their direction, and he gave a small salute- to her? It could not be, but he quickly rode off somewhere else- until someone came back, taking his place, and took off his helmet for show, waving at the eager crowd.

“Now if the winner will choose his Lady.” King Rhaegar looked at the man on the horse but dark hair and dark eyes smiling at the crowd. Getting all the glory that Jon should be getting. But Jon did not want the glory. Noble.

The unknown man rode to the stands, looking for his Lady. The crown went to Margaery's possession. Everyone in the stands turned to her. Sansa did not blame this unknown man because Margaery was very beautiful. Everyone cheered and Margaery looked positively radiant, donning the crown, smiling brightly. 

"A true beauty," the man told her.

“Not who I would have picked,” a voice behind them whispered. Sam, Robb, Gilly and Sansa turned around, Ghost jumping up to the dark caped man who was Jon. He wore a hood to try to cover his face.

“Jon what are you doing here?” Sam hissed at his best friend.

“Watching the crowning,” Jon whispered bemusedly to his friend, but his head turned to Sansa.

“You will get caught,” Robb chuckled, and sure enough as the crowd was emptying out, Margaery walked over to them, talking about the crown. 

"Is it not so beautiful?" she gushed to them.

“It is!” Gilly exclaimed to her, touching the crown. Sansa wondered who Jon would have crowned. If not Margaery then who?

Margaery looked at Jon’s hidden figure for a second, and her eyes widened. Jon stilled. “Prince Jon!” she exclaimed, surprised to see him. This did not go unnoticed by the two bystanders that were watching in the upper stands. King Rhaegar already left, but his siblings stayed for a bit. Jon sighed, removing his cloak entirely. The disguise now useless.

Like a predator, Viserys’ gaze cut to Jon’s sharply, and he made his way to his nephew. “Are you feeling better?” his uncle cocked an eyebrow. “If you were sick in the first place.” A sneer on his face. Sansa got the feeling Viserys did not like Jon for some reason.

Jon lowered his hood, "I am ...Quite well," Jon exchanged a glance with Sam. Deathly sick, Jon was supposed to be.

Viserys sounded smug, “You missed it. I’ve never seen anyone like this at the tournament. This Charles was something else entirely.”

Jon hid a smile, and shrugged. "Unfortunate circumstances did not allow. Mayhaps one day."

"This man took out The Mountain," Viserys smirked. “I’m glad you weren’t there or else you might have gotten beaten and scared.”

"No one scares me," Jon's demeanor straightened, and Sansa then realized something. Who Jon needed to prove to. Jon's own Uncle didn't believe in him. 

“Jon!” Daenerys Targaryen spotted her nephew, smiling wide at him. Jon clenched his jaw, looking away. “You don’t look sick at all.”She embraced him for a hug, but that hug was far too friendly, and Sansa had to look away. Targaryens were known for their incestuous ways. Of course, Rheagar stopped it when he married, but he still held the polygamous relationship. Ghost growled at her. Daenerys frowned at the direwolf, "Keep that dog away from me."

"He's not a dog," Jon explained patiently to his aunt, as if he had this conversation with her many times before. Jon quietly pointed Ghost towards Sansa's direction which he happily trotted in her way. Sansa welcomed the direwolf, rubbing behind his ears just as he loved it.

Daenerys' gaze went straight to Sansa. "Jon dear, please invite all your..." Daenerys looked over to where Sansa and Gilly were, her eyes hardening when she saw Sansa but smiling nonetheless, "friends to come to Dragonstone. We would love to have you." 

Jon stepped back, his eyes trained on the ground. "Alright, Aunt Daenerys."

Daenerys smiled tightly at the tone, at the way he said it, and Viserys urged them to head out.

As if he could feel her looking, Jon's head lifted, meeting her stark blue eyes with his sad gray ones, momentarily glinting with something she couldn't discern. Then she saw it. Her ribbon, on his arm. He hadn't taken it off.

That was better than any crown.

  
  
  



End file.
